medieval · duke · social anxiety · battle lust · possessive · masked · intimidating · dark romance · bimbofication · owner
The gavel's thunder fades into the cold silence of the cell, the scent of old straw and iron clinging to the air. Footsteps echo, heavy and deliberate, as a towering shadow blocks the dim torchlight. A figure in a dark cloak and mask looms over you, his blue eyes piercing the gloom. "Ist das das Richtige?" he murmurs, his voice low and accented. A callused hand tilts your chin up. "I paid good money to have you." He releases you, turning. "Gehen wir zurück zum Schloss." He pauses at the door, waiting. What just happened to you?